


All Through Our Lives

by FromJupiterToMercury



Category: Bon Jovi (Band), Glam Rock RPF, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromJupiterToMercury/pseuds/FromJupiterToMercury
Summary: Early 80s, you work as a janitor in a recording studio in New Jersey. You’re friends with a certain Jon Bon Jovi; during your shifts, you sometimes dream about a golden future: him becoming a rock star, and you a guitarist.Seems like your wishes came true: you’re now a professional guitarist, usually playing for bands during tours, and your friend Jon has become a successful singer with his band. A deep friendship links both of you, and life never fails to make your paths meet. Occasions to see a certain Richie Sambora…
Relationships: Richie Sambora/Original Character(s), Richie Sambora/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 9





	1. September 1983, part I

_New Jersey, September 1983_

“My life is done. Destroyed.”  
Jon was sitting on a material box, head in his hands, making his full-of-hairspray blond hair look like a lion’s mane. At his side, Richie was tapping on his red electric guitar with the tip of his fingers, eyes in the vague.  
Your first reaction entering the studio was coughing due to the smoke filling the room. You sniffed. _It smelled like something had burnt_. You had to walk some metres to actually see something through it. And what a vision: the set looked like a post-apocalyptic scene, with its rocks in polystyrene, metallic shapes and barrels. A black box with roulettes had been brought at the centre, a mic-stand on the floor next to it. You shrugged and said loudly, to warn of your presence: “What happened here?”

Your friend lifted his head and threw you a look of despair noticing you; his brown-haired bandmate next to him eyed you discretely. You glanced at him too, but your look moved back to Jon when you noticed him move.  
He went to get up, and that’s when he unfolded his body that you noticed his outfit: you couldn’t help but laugh in front of the violet leather pants and pink jacket. He had a white torn t-shirt, darkened at some parts to look like it was dirty. Your friend and you both dressed roughly the same, always looking like you spent the night backstage at a rock concert, but there… He went hard.  
“Jon, oh my god…”  
He dragged feet to you and nearly collapsed in your arms.  
“y/n, I think it’s the worst day of my life. They ruined me. I’m never going to be famous, this is going to follow me everywhere.”  
You frowned, not having a single clue of what he was talking about.  
You knew today was the day the video clip of _Runaway_ , one of their songs, was going to be filmed. It would be the first song of the album, and the song they put a lot of hopes in. He asked you to come during the day of filming, the whole thing interesting you. You were expecting people everywhere, cameras, make-up artists, sound engineers… But all you were seeing was two desperate people in the middle of a questionable set, in questionable clothes. You had to squint to notice two cameras a little further. And all of that after getting nearly choked by smoke.  
“y/n! Wassup?” You turned and opened your arms, seeing who was coming to you: David took you in and held you close.  
“Well, me, good; but I feel like you have a lot of things to tell me.” The keyboardist took a sip from his cup of coffee and shrugged. You raised an eyebrow. “That bad, uh?”  
Jon said, still looking like he had the worst day of his life: “You know what? I don’t even want to look at the result. Like, for me? Never happened. I swear, there is…”  
He started explaining how the people here today acted like shit with them when your gaze looked between the two guys: on the box was still sat Richie. You knew his name, Jon had already talked about him to you, and seen that he had an electric guitar on his knees, you could guess it was him. He was wearing a black outfit, top opened. Well, he was better dressed than Jon. You crossed looks. _Was he smiling at you?_ Since you came in, he hadn’t moved, watching the scene shyly from his observing point. You waved at him to make him approach – and stop Jon from complaining a bit too.  
Seen that he was already looking at you, he directly got up and walked to the little group, planting himself between Jon and David. It didn’t make Jon stop talking though: “…and I thought there would be, like professionals you know. Like make-up artists, des-”  
“Jon, I already figured out there wasn’t any stylist out here.” You emphasized what you said by looking at him from his head to feet. He stopped and threw you a pissed look before shaking his head and huffing.  
David took you by the shoulders: “This is my friend y/n!”  
Richie’s face enlightened and he nudged at Jon’s side. He didn’t take the hint and pouted at him: “Careful dude, you just hit me…”  
You cleared your throat and looked at David, then Richie: “Yeah, but is it how you treat a friend? You don’t even introduce me.”  
He complied and looked at him.  
“Well, Richie, this is y/n. y/n, this is Richie.” Both of you nodded at the other. “y/n works with Jon at the recording studio, and is a future talented professional guitarist.” You raised your hand to his sentence but he lowered it: “And the lady out here refused to be in our band, so, in a way, you can thank her to be here.” Jon smiled at your side. David carried on: “And the three of us go out every Friday together!” He ended his sentence by a “Yoo-hoo!” and you pinched the bridge of your nose, huffing. Indeed, David being Jon’s friend from school, you had met him by him some years ago.  
“Nice to meet you.” You extended your hand with a smile.  
He grabbed it.  
“Well, nice to meet you too, Jon’s party colleague.” He bent and kissed it. You laughed.  
Jon grabbed his friend by the shoulder and straightened him: “Oh no Rich, her, you won’t touch her.” It took his face three seconds to be all red. You huffed and put a hand in front of your mouth. Jon carried on, to his friend’s disbelief: “No shit, with everyone I found back in your bed some mornings…”  
You made the “time” movement with your hands: “Right! So, I propose we go out of this mess and never talk about it again, okay? Let’s change your minds.” You grabbed Jon and David’s arms and looked at Richie, who was still recovering from his friend’s speech.  
He took the control of himself back and put his hand on his heart and gasped in surprise: “Wait… You… You propose me to be your party colleague.” You laughed to his words, _once again_ , and made a movement of your head towards the exit.

-

“And then, the girl was doing… Fuck I don’t even know how to phrase it. Like, super weird movements.”  
David patted Jon’s arm.  
“Dude, move on.”  
Jon gasped: “No! Plus, we need to tell y/n.”  
You took your glass and raised it to him.  
The singer got up and moved his hand towards you. “Look.” He first shook his head up and down, wanting to move his hair in a dramatic way – but as it was full of hairspray, it just bobbled a bit. You threw the others questioning looks. He put his hands above his head and started to move his hips, doing eight-shapes with his pelvis. David made his head fall on the table in a loud thud and Richie burst in laughs. You nearly spat what was in your mouth, took off of your chair and extended your hand to grab him by the jacket to sit him back down.  
“Oh my god Jon, there are children out here!” You glanced around you in the bar; at the table next to you, an old couple was looking at you in shock.  
Richie swiped his eyes. He pointed at the table: “Bro, I think we might get people call the police for outrage…”  
You added: “And we’re not talking about your pants.”  
Richie and you nudged at each other at your common pun. Jon threw you offended looks and pouted. David sat back in his chair, hand on his heart, out of breath due to his laugh.   
You took your empty glass and raised it, signalling the others you were going to the bar for a refill. You got up and headed to it, placing yourself in the queue.  
You suddenly felt someone tap your right shoulder and turned: no one. You frowned, and looked back in front of you: you nearly jumped when you noticed at your left Richie looking at you expectantly, a huge smile on his face. You tried your best to not laugh to this – _honestly_? – but failed.  
“Okay, I see why y’all get on. You are big children.”   
“Yet I’m three years older than them.” You raised eyebrows. There were two people in front of you yet. You heard him clear his throat. “So. You’re a guitarist, right?”  
You grinned.  
“I don’t know. Is it to keep the conversation going?”  
He grabbed his chin between two fingers and lifted his eyes, feigning thinking.  
“Mmh… Well, you unmasked me. I’ll have to change my plans.”  
You laughed. He was clearly flirting with you, and you couldn’t say it displeased you – you would be lying if you said he didn’t catch your eye. But something tickled: Jon had depicted him as a ladies’ man earlier, and that kind of person usually irritated you.  
He suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and shifted the both of you to the side. He addressed to the person behind you: “After you.” The woman looked at you frowning, and stepped forward. Still holding you, he put you back in the queue behind her. He looked at you: “Here! I just won three minutes.”  
You rolled your eyes, and once again tried to hold your laugh. “So, we were saying. You’re a guitarist.”  
You nodded. “Indeed I am.”  
He scratched his head.  
“And why didn’t you join Jon’s band?”  
You tilted your head to the side.   
“Well, I like independence. I don’t want to depend on anybody, you know. Plus, playing with several bands brings experience.”  
He nodded with understanding. “And which band have you played with?”  
You raised your finger. “This, Mister Sambora, is a question asked a bit too early.” He smiled, making your heart jump in your chest. You shook your head. “As I understood, it’s a common point between us.” He tilted his head to the side, not getting it. You approached your face from his: “Not getting engaged and just being there for an occasion.”  
His head dropped back and he bit his lip. _You got him_. You saw his cheeks getting a bit pink.  
“Ma’am?”   
You turned to the barman who just called you, and asked for the same he gave you earlier.  
You turned to Richie. You still wore a grin.  
“And you? Where is your glass?”  
He passed his hand through his hair.  
“Oh no, my glass is still on the table, only half empty.” You frowned slightly. “Yeah, I just came here to flirt with you.”


	2. September 1983, part II

[This part includes sexual contents]  
New Jersey, September 1983  
The four of you were walking, your laughs resonating in the empty street.   
“Guys!” You stopped them, pointing at the street that went on the right. “I’m going in this direction.” David shrugged: “What? You mean you don’t come at Jon and I’s flat to carry this on?” You shook your head and smiled: “Nope, enough for me for tonight.” You turned to Jon: “See you tomorrow at the studio I guess.” He nodded.  
You were about to take a step back when Richie moved towards you. “Wait! I’m going this way too, so let’s do the path together.” You nodded. Suddenly, Jon went back to you and took you in his arms. You huffed to his action, but closed your arms around him nonetheless. You felt him move his head, and he whispered in your ear: “You know your path is not his too, right.” You broke apart, but put your cheek against his again on his other side, as you were kissing him goodbye. You whispered too: “Of course.” You definitively broke apart now, and looked at each other in the eyes, with affection. He said: “Alright. Careful.” You went backwards and waved at David and Jon.  
Once you were walking alone, Richie nudged at you. “You’re very close with Jon, uh?” You nodded. “Yeah, we know each other for a couple of years now, and we get on well. Let’s say we’re a good team of janitors.” He shrugged. “And a good team of dreamers.”  
He looked at you. From his height, he had to lower his face to. You chatted about your projects, guitars and music when you stopped. He was a step forward when he noticed you weren’t next to him anymore, turning, a bit surprised. You laughed in front of the scene, his actions being comical. “Are you okay?” You shrugged: “Yeah, quite.” You pointed at the house at your right. “I live here.”  
“Oh.” He faced the house and eyed it, putting hands in pockets. You walked in the ally towards the door. You smiled when you heard steps on the gravel behind you. You climbed on the step at the door and turned. He was right behind you, your faces being at the same level now.  
He eyed the house again: “I can say that your parents have a beautiful house.”  
“Well…” You squinted. “They have. But on the west coast.” He frowned, and you opened the door in your back, staying face to him. “This house belongs to an 80-year-old widow, half-deaf, always in the living room in front of the television, that is always screaming.” He gulped and let out a little “oh.” You pointed upwards. “I rent a room below the roof.” You locked eyes with him. In the back of your mind, Jon’s “careful” resonated. You added: “And it’s completely independent.”  
You slowly stepped backwards, entering the house. He climbed the steps and followed you.   
You could hear the television from the hall. You were still walking backwards, eyes locked with him. You turned and took the stairs at your right.  
You could hear him behind you, the steps cracking under his feet.  
You turned and opened your room’s door. He entered after you, and closed the door. A metallic sound clacked in the silence and he joined you in the centre of the room. You were really close, and his breath on your skin made goosebumps rise on your skin.  
He whispered: “You know, earlier, when I saw you… I felt something and-”  
You grabbed him by his opened collar and kissed him. You knew it was a speech he probably told every woman, and hadn’t the courage to hear that to be left alone the morning after.  
After the surprise of your sudden gesture, he put his hands on your back and pressed you into him, deepening the kiss.  
You lost no time opening his top completely. You tugged at his belt, and he let go of you to start undoing his pants. While he was busy on it, you removed your t-shirt and went to lay on the bed, looking at him. He lifted his head to you and when he saw your form, stumbled in his trousers; you couldn’t help but laugh.  
He finally managed to get out of it and threw you a proud face. “Enjoy the beginning of the show?”  
You unhooked your bra under his widening eyes and threw it at him: “Take this at the first bra you’re thrown at.”  
He caught it and humorously wiped fake tears with it. ‘I’m moved.” You laughed. He was really fun though.  
He came to you and you spread your legs to welcome him in between. He took support on his hands at each side of your head, hovering above you. “Hi beautiful.”  
You smiled at him and tangled your hand in his hair, tugging to drag him toward you, and caught his lips. He shifted his support on his forearms and went flush against you, as you reflexively hooked your legs around him.  
You rolled your hips against him and felt his hard-on. He moaned and you smiled in the kiss to the effect you had on him.  
He got back: “Eager?”  
You smiled and rolled your hips once again, making him swallow loudly. “Thirsty.”  
He went on his knees and you unhooked your legs from him. He passed his fingers in your pants and panties as you lifted your hips from the bed to help him remove it.  
He slid it off of your legs and threw it across your room, wiggling his eyebrows, and making you laugh again.  
To your surprise, he took your knees in his palms to spread your legs and dive between without a word. Your gasp of surprise changed in a gasp of pleasure when he flattened his tongue on your slit. Your hand gripped his hair and tugged; he moaned against you and elicited one from you. He closed his lips around your clit and sucked; all your nerves were on alert and your thighs mechanically closed around his head.  
He didn’t move though, and carried on his ministrations. Gathering all your forces, you went on your elbows and looked at him. He was there, trapped between your legs, eating you out eyes closed like you were his last meal on earth.  
He sucked particularly harshly on your clit and you bit your lip nearly to the blood. If he carried on like that, he would make you come in a very short time; you moved one of your legs to move and let him breath, when he extended one of his arms to lay his hand flat on your stomach and prevent you to move.  
He lifted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “Leaving already?”  
You just looked at him, mouth slightly opened when he let his other hand wander on your thigh till your core.  
He winked, and you were about to say something when he went back on sucking on your clit and slowly entered his index inside you.  
Your back fell back on the mattress and you let out a non-elegant, guttural moan. You felt him crook it upwards, looking for a rougher pad. You helped him by rolling your hips towards him, his head following your movements as he carried on licking and sucking your clit. By a movement of the wrist, he went a little backwards as he inserted a second finger, making your upper back rise from the mattress and your walls clench around him. He repeated his friction movements, and bit slightly on your clit; you gripped the sheets towards you, nearly unhooking them from the mattress.  
Your senses were highlighted and heat gathered in your belly. You were close, you felt it. Your hips were still meeting his mouth, desperately. “Richie…”  
The muffled “Hmm” he answered vibrated through your body. “’M close don’t stop.”  
His free hand grabbed your thigh and he attacked your more vigorously, attracting you even closer to the edge – if it was possible. His two fingers pushed particularly precisely on your g-spot and you fell over; you tugged at the sheets and whispered his name through your orgasm. The sound of your voice praising his name made him push his hips into the mattress, further on the bed.  
You had to tug his hair slightly to make him move, your senses being too much solicited right now.  
He crawled back at your level, taking support on his forearms. He was supporting himself but were still against you. You were out of breath, panting, as he looked at you smiling. You recognized: “You’ve got a great mouth game.” He cocked an eyebrow. He took a proud face and thanked you. As he spoke, you looked at his glistening lips and took his face in your hands, dragging him towards you to catch his bottom lip to suck at it. He moaned and opened his mouth to take yours, deepening the kiss.  
You let your hand wander on his torso towards his still clothed member. You felt him shrug when he felt your touch on him, and detached his lips from yours as you grabbed him. You started massaging him slowly, his face contorted in pleasure. “You know we don’t have to… Right now… Fuck.” He panted and you grinned. “We don’t have to what? I didn’t get what you said Richie…” He slowly opened his eyes and closed them right away when your fingers passed on his tip, still on the other side of the cloth.  
You removed your hand and clapped the elastic of his briefs on his skin. He never got up that quick and discarded it on the side in a matter of seconds. You shrugged and went to move to change position, but he didn’t let you the time to by coming on front of you on his knees and grabbed you by the thighs to drag you closer.  
He grabbed his member and rubbed it on your folds, making a ragged breath elicit from your lips as he touched your still sensitive clit. He went against your entrance and looked at you. You slowly nodded and he pushed, advancing on his hands towards you as he entered.  
You gasped and your eyes closed: he was huge. Your hand flew on his arm and gripped at his scarf, still hooked around his biceps. “Fuck Rich…” Your vagina tugged a bit, clenching around him to get used. He put his forehead against yours and kissed your cheek. The affectionate gesture made goosebumps rise on your skin. You turned your face and said in his ear: “If you don’t move, I’m going to fall-”  
He gave a roll of his hips and both of you cried out in unison. The movement alone felt like it solicited all your senses. His pelvis rubbed against your still sensitive clit, but you didn’t want anything else than feeling that again right now. Your legs trapped him against you and you put your hands flat on his back. You pushed him with your heels, at the same time you caught his lips. He slowly started again, installing a slow pace. His member dragged against your walls in a pleasing way, but your nerves needed more. As he heard what you were thinking, he started pounding into you quicker, his pelvis rubbing your clit in dryer movements.  
Your nails dug at his back as you felt his muscles move below. He moved his face into the crook of your neck, his ragged breath tickling and making a shiver run down your spine.  
Both of you were starting to get out of breath, coming closer and closer. He didn’t move from your neck and said: “Please y/n, tell me you’re close.”  
Hearing him plead your name added, and you clawed at him tighter. “That’s up to you Ri-”  
He gave a hard thrust and you swore you saw stars. A “Fuck, do that again” came out of your mouth and he started making smaller and quicker hips movements. You were nearly there, and him sucking at a particular spot at your neck triggered your second orgasm.  
To make the sensations last longer, you clenched harder around him and met his hips with yours, as you could make him come even deeper; you were overwhelmed by your pleasure and vaguely heard him moan deeply into your neck, his thrusts getting sloppier.  
Both of you rubbed against each other for a moment again, holding onto your own pleasure and melting into each other.  
You eventually stopped moving, him falling on you completely. He moved back a bit to get out of you – making both of you wince – and directly came back on you, face in your neck. Your hand flew in his hair, soothing his scalp. None of you said anything, coming back from your high little by little as tiredness fell on you. His head was following the heaving movements of your chest. At a moment, he turned his face and kissed your skin. You gulped as it made heat spread in your chest.  
Fuck.  
Both of you slowly fell asleep as your mind tried to escape your thoughts.  
-  
You opened your eyes and stirred. You extended your arms at your side, the coldness of the bedsheets making the hair of your arms raise. You hated yourself for that, but your heart sank. Fuck y/n, you knew it, no? It was just to fuck.  
You passed your legs above the bed and sat on the edge. You were still naked, and your room being just behind the roof, the already cold mornings of September weren’t kind to you. You scrubbed your arms with your hands and turned to grab something to put on your shoulders when you saw it: a square of fabric was put on your nightstand. You frowned and took it to unfold it: the black scarf hanged from your fingers.  
You shook your head. He should have forgotten it. Forgot it, properly folded on your nightstand?  
Yes, certainly.  
Your phone rang, and your heart jumped in your chest. You gulped, and waited for the third ring, not wanting to admit who you wished it was.  
You grabbed it. “Hello?”  
“y/n! It’s the end.”  
You huffed under Jon’s dramatic tone and tried to suppress your slight disappointment.  
“What is it?”  
You heard a huff. “I just saw the final product of one of our clips. It’s the end y/n. I swear, they are mocking us! If you saw what they made us do…”  
It gave you a smile.  
“What song was it for?”  
“She don’t know me.”


	3. April 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part makes reference the the "Only Lonely" music video, so I advise you to watch it! :)

[This part includes sexual content]  
New Jersey, April 1985  
You jumped off the taxi and closed the door. You glanced around you: at your left stood a hangar, and on the other side a bar and a restaurant, but only facades; not the entire building was necessary for the studios. You wondered if a famous movie had already been filmed here, and nearly tripped in a camera wire while you were lost in your thoughts. You swore under the judging look of a technician who was getting out of a van and tugged at your jean jacket.  
While you headed to the hangar, you felt someone tap on your shoulder. You turned: a man with headphones on his head and a pole to take the sound was looking at your figure. “Hum, sorry, but groupies aren’t allowed here.” Your mouth opened and you cocked an eyebrow. “A groupie? Do I-”  
“y/n!”  
You hadn’t the time to turn completely when you felt yourself take off of the ground. “Oh my god Jon let me go, you know I get dizzy easily!” You were laughing, gripping at his leather jacket. He put you on the ground and you both took yourselves by the shoulders, eyeing you. It has been a bit more than a year you hadn’t seen each other now. In March 1984, your hopes had finally been heard; you had been taken as a musician during the Scorpions’ Love at First Sting tour. It hasn’t ended yet, but you had a week free before taking off again.  
With your parents, Jon was the only person you called when you had the time. Since you left and quit your job, he finished recording their album, had their little success, he too quit, toured, and wrote a second album. Yeah, only that.  
Some days ago, you told him you were coming back today, and he gave you the address of the studios where they would be filming a clip for their next album. It would be a way for you to hear one of their new songs, and he promised you a surprise. You remembered your conversation:  
“Jon, you know I don’t like surprises.”  
“Hey! Believe me, you’ll have fun.” You frowned. “Jon… It has nothing to see with Richie, does it?” You had heard him scoff on the other side. “No, it’s not linked with Richie.” He paused. “You still think about him or what?” You shrugged, a little bit too much to be believable. “Of course not.”  
“y/n.” You weren’t even in the same state, but you blushed like he was intensely looking at you. “Hey. It was just a one-night stand, okay.” You had confessed about your night with Richie to Jon of course, him being your confidant. But you didn’t want to extend to your feelings too much, Richie was Jon’s friend too, and you didn’t want him to be in an uncomfortable situation. Plus, you didn’t really know how you felt either. You heard him hum, unconvinced.  
David joined your reunion, and hugged you too. He tapped on your shoulder: “So, how is Klaus Meine? He’s nice, yeah? I’m sure he is.” You laughed and was about to answer when your gaze met Richie’s. He had just arrived in front of you, a little in retreat. He passed his hand in his hair and hesitated a bit, before stepping towards you – and in front of David – to kiss you on the cheeks. David looked at Jon then at you above his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed from being cut.  
“So? How was it?”  
You lifted your fingers to him. “Good, but my fingertips are full of blisters, I’ve never played so much.” He scoffed. “Yeah, I know that. But I have a special technique for healing this, I can show you if you wan-”  
“Okay!”  
David tapped on his and Jon’s shoulders. “Seen that everyone’s there now, we can start shooting the scenes?” You looked at them and squinted. Now that everyone’s there?  
Their three gazes shifted to you. Some seconds passed, and Jon couldn’t prevent a huge smile to spread on his face anymore.  
You suddenly got it.  
“Oh no. No no no.”  
-  
“Wow. David, during all those years, you hid those acting talents to us.” He nudged at you and pouted. With Richie, both of you were behind a camera, looking at rushes. “Who wrote the scenario?”  
David shrugged. “God knows. He wanted it to look like a trailer of a movie.” You turned your face to him and raised eyebrows. “And would you like to watch this movie?” He sighed deeply as an answer and sipped his coffee.  
Richie lifted his eyes and looked at the ceiling: “Why do we always get fooled for clips?”  
You turned to them. “I don’t know, but next time, don’t get me involved in this.” You gave them understood looks. You took David’s cup from his hands and sipped, but spit it all on him as soon as you saw what was coming towards you.  
“Hey! My white shirt!” He started pouting when he turned to see what made you stain his clothes, but he stopped and let out a “Fuck.”  
Jon was walking towards you… in underpants. You swiped your chin. “A bit too hot in there Jon? Yeah, David’s acting abilities do that to me too…” They keyboardist nudged at your side again and Richie laughed loudly, putting his head on your shoulder. Instinctively, you leaned yours on his – but removed it as soon as it touched.  
Jon scoffed and motioned you all to follow him. You proceeded, and entered in a room set. Jon took you by the arm a little bit further, and spoke lower. “Hey, there is a love scene to film right now – well not that much, just some kisses you know.” He scrubbed his hands together, then scratched his head. He was stuttering a bit: “If you don’t want to do it, it’s okay of course, you know-”  
You huffed and put your hands on his shoulders: “Hey, it’s okay. I’m going to do it.” It was not that much, there wasn’t anything to worry about. “You pointed at him and laughed: “Do I have to get naked too?”  
He laughed, relaxing. “No, no don’t worry.” You both headed to sit on the bed cross-legged, in front of each other. “Let me guess. Is it to please the groupies?” He pulled out his tongue, grabbed a pillow and threw it to you. You shifted to the side to avoid it, chuckling. In your movement, you turned your head to the side and saw David and Richie between two cameramen, installing themselves around you. David was talking to him, making huge movements with his arms and threatening to spill his coffee everywhere, but Richie wasn’t looking at him; he was looking at you. He raised his hand and waved; you smiled.  
When you turned, you faced back a grinning Jon looking at you. You threw him the pillow back.  
“Alright children!”  
A man approached one of the cameramen. “Romantic atmosphere and all that jazz.” He made a movement with his fingers and a song started. You didn’t know it, but you recognized Jon’s voice. You guessed it was the song you were doing the clip for.

How do we win these losin'  
Games we play, words we say  
Cutting wounds we know they run so deep

“Now!”

Leave it all behind you  
Or someday love will find you

Both of you bent forward and kissed. You stayed lips against lips for some seconds, and then broke apart.  
He raised his eyebrows a bit. You whispered: “I know how it feels like to kiss a brother now.” He squinted: “Yeah… I was thinking the same.” You laughed together.  
“Next take! Could you remove your clothes please miss?” Jon huffed and nearly got up: “Hey! We never said-”  
You cut him: “It’s alright.” You darted your eyes to the man behind the camera: “I’ll put the sheets on me.” It wasn’t a question, but the man nodded.  
Jon stretched the sheet in front of you while you removed pants and shirt. You took it from him to put it against you. You glanced at the man for further instructions and noticed Richie, alone now, next to him.  
“Just lay on him, right.” You positioned yourself and shrugged. The sheets that were between you tickled; you whispered: “I hope they washed it before today…” Jon hummed in response: “Personally I try to not think about it too much.”

So tell me babe, how much pain  
can you take before your heart breaks?

The music was still playing in the background, leaving place to the guitar solo. You lifted your head and met Richie’s gaze, once again, but he watched his feet as soon as they did.  
“Right! Thank you, I think it’s good for today.”  
Both of you sat straighter, but Jon grabbed your arm before you went to get up. He came to your ear and said: “You know he didn’t take his eyes off of you for these whole five minutes, right?”  
You got back and raised an eyebrow. “Jon, one year ago you nearly prevented me to shag your friend and now you nearly push me towards him?”  
You had said that with humour, but he passed his hand through his hair and raised his shoulders. You frowned.  
You put the sheet around your body, tugging it below your armpits and got up. You took another and threw it on Jon: “Hide this body Mister, groupies can feel it in the distance!” He shrugged and handed it.  
You grabbed your clothes and headed towards Richie. The evening was falling, and the temperature in the hangar lowering. A shiver ran down your entire body; goose bumps rose on your skin and your shoulders trembled a bit. You tugged at the sheet around you and stopped in front of him. He passed his hand at the back of neck, not looking at you directly. His cheekbones were pink. Some seconds passed where you both stood face to each other, without saying a word. “Umh… Do you know where I can change? If there are some toilets here, or…”  
“Well, there is our van.” He finally looked at you, but escaped your gaze right after. You squinted. He tugged at his collar and motioned you to follow him.  
You walked side by side to the outside, in silence. Your mind was racing: was he mad at you? It was the first time you saw each other alone since the night you spent together more than a year ago.  
You reached for the vehicle, and Richie tugged at the back doors to open. You stepped towards it and climbed in it. Once inside, you looked at Richie.  
He eyed you some seconds and went to turn when you called him. “Richie, did I do something wrong? I feel like you’ve been a bit cold with me…” He turned to you quickly and opened wide eyes. “No!” You shrugged and pointed at his arm. “I have something to give you back then.” He frowned, but climbed in the van.  
A wind entered the car, and your body trembled under it, but you grabbed your jeans to take something from your pocket. Seeing that, he let out a “woops” and closed the doors to prevent it from happening again.  
You struggled a bit to catch it, but managed to tug it out.  
The black scarf slipped out of your pocket in a fluid motion.  
You let your pants fall on the floor and approached him, leaving only one or two centimetres between your bodies.  
You passed the scarf around his naked arm – due to him wearing a tank top. To do the node, you had to move your arms off of your body, what made the sheet that was around you slide off of you unwillingly.  
“Oh y/n your…”  
He didn’t finish his sentence, but you didn’t pay attention to what he had said, tightening the fabric and tapping his muscle to indicate it was done.  
You lifted your eyes to meet his; his breath got ragged. He inhaled deeply, his torso meeting yours in the process.  
His cold hands went at your sides, making a shiver run down your spine. You eyed his face, then his cheekbones, then his neck. You went on your tip-toes to kiss his cheek, and felt his breath get caught in his throat. You tilted your head to the side going back on your feet, and kissed his neck.  
His grip at your sides tightened and he pulled you flush against him. His hand flew in your hair and he moved your head to kiss you.  
It was hungry, desperate.  
Your hand that was on his chest lowered to his crotch, making him shiver in anticipation. You felt him hardening under your touch and broke apart. His breath got caught in his throat and you grinned on the effect you had on him. He huffed at your expression: “What? You’re literally naked in front of-”  
He stopped as his gaze followed you going on your knees. He gulped as you opened his belt. “y/n, you don’t have to…” You winked and lowered his pants mid-thighs as his cheeks went a bit red from being exposed. Your fingertips wandered on the skin of his thighs to his member, that you grabbed all along looking at him. You felt him growing harder seconds by seconds as you approached and kissed the tip. Not moving your eyes, you opened your mouth and took what you could, flattening your tongue; the eye contact was harder for him to keep though, as his eyes fluttered shut and his hand flew on your head.  
You started bobbing your head and took what stayed outside with one of your hands, the other gripping his thigh for support. You could feel his muscles move below as he was preventing himself to move his hips. You suddenly hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder; he let his head fall back and let a guttural moan escape his throat. His fingers clawed at your hair. “y/n, if you carry on like that- Fuck! – you had carried on like that – I’m not going to last.”  
You let him go and he shifted a bit but you clawed at his thigh. “I didn’t say I was done.” He looked at you with a questioning look and you took him in your hand, operating up and down movements. The eye contact took back and he cupped your cheek with his hand, his thumb soothing the skin. His hips were meeting your hand and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could feel him twitch in your palm; he was close.  
You flicked your wrist in a sudden movement and passed your thumb on the tip. His breath got more and more ragged, his torso raising and falling, mouth open. Still looking at him, you simply opened your mouth and pulled out your tongue, just below him.  
And it was good enough; he moaned as you felt hot spurts on your tongue. He started praising your name and emptied himself. It took him some seconds to open his eyes; he looked at you as you were swiping the corner of your mouth with a finger. He grabbed you below the armpit and lost no time pulling you flush against him and kissed you. You moaned in surprise but quickly responded. You could feel his fingertips dance on your skin as his hands went lower on your belly. He stopped the kiss and looked at you. “y/n, I have something to tell you.” You raised eyebrows and looked at him expectantly. “I… I-”  
What he said got swallowed by a loud noise on the side of the van, covering his already quiet words. “We’re leaving in two minutes! So finish what you were doing.”  
You shrugged at what David had said, and looked back at Richie. He was eyes planted in yours, like he was waiting for you to say something. You opened your mouth but got interrupted by David and Jon literally entering at the front of the van. They didn’t turn and Jon said: “Buckle up children, let’s go having some pizzas after this rude day.”  
You scoffed and eyed your clothes, further away. “Let’s get dressed.”  
He smiled the less sadly possible and nodded. His heart sank in his chest.


	4. May 1989

Las Vegas, May 1989

You got awakened in a jump when the phone of your hotel room rang. You pestered at your nap being interrupted and threw your arm towards the nightstand. It was night, but the outside lights of the never-sleeping city of Las Vegas gave the room a dim atmosphere.  
You picked up and unstuck a lock of hair from your cheek.  
“I said I wasn’t going out tonight-”  
“Oh yes you do!”  
You actually opened your eyes and went on your elbow. You frowned: “Jon?”  
“Okay, are you grumpy or did I do something wrong?”  
You shrugged. “Oh come on, of course not, I’m just surprised. How are you? You don’t have any show tonight? Where on the globe are you by the way?”  
You let yourself fall on the bed again. You couldn’t say you were paid in gold bars, but you were housed in the same hotels as the band you were playing with, and it had its perks. The day before, today and tomorrow, you hadn’t any show, so after going out and enjoying what Las Vegas had to offer with roadies the day before, you needed sleep. Well, without relying on Jon, who was supposed to be on tour for the New Jersey album. But it has been some months you didn’t hear him, and even longer you hadn’t seen each other.  
“I’m in Vegas!”  
You got back on your elbow.  
“No shit! And where are you play-”  
“I’m not playing tonight y/n.”  
You frowned and stayed mouth opened.  
“I’m getting married, and you’re my maid. Oh, I’m waiting for you in the hall of your hotel, so move your ass!”  
-  
You got out of the elevator and swiped the hall with your gaze, but no Jon in sight. You had put on the only dress you took in your luggage and tugged at it. You headed to the little saloon to see if he was waiting there but someone came behind you and put his hands on your eyes. You smiled and gripped the wrists: “Tell me silly boy, you’re getting married like that on a whim-”  
You stopped when you turned and saw who was behind you.  
“Hi y/n.”  
He closed the gap that separated you and hugged you tight. You closed your arms around his middle, everything you had tried to forget for four years coming back.  
“Oh, hi. How are you?”  
Four years you last saw Richie, four years you had tried to forget him, four years Jon pissed you off with this.  
You thought that not seeing him would help you forgetting him, but seen that they became one of the most successful bands of the moment, it wasn’t an easy task. They were everywhere on magazines, on radio…  
“Fine. Well, things are going. For you too, I see.” He looked at the huge hall and whistled.  
You grabbed him by the arm and headed towards the exit. “Oh don’t tell me you’re not getting used to it.”  
A taxi was waiting for you in front of your hotel. You both entered at the back. “Oh, you know, there are things we’re never getting used to.”  
You scoffed and met his gaze. “Ha. Can I know what?”  
He opened his mouth when the driver stopped. “It’s here, on your left.”  
You cocked an eyebrow. “Already?”  
The ride had lasted not even three minutes.  
You got out and you both entered the little chapel. You were at least expecting the rest of the band and some of Dorothea’s friends, but the edifice was empty, except the future married.  
As soon as he heard the door, Jon turned and ran to meet you; you both hugged for a while. From the corner of your eye, you saw Richie heading further down the aisle to join Dorothea.  
You broke apart, and you took his face between your hands. “Interrupting the tour to get married?” He shrugged. “So, we’re only four?”  
He nodded. “Only the most important are there tonight.” You tightened your grip on him; his sentence made your heart jump. Some years ago, you were used to see him every day, and now, you were lucky if you saw him twice a year.  
You tapped at his shoulders. “Hey, you know I miss you a lot Mister I-get-married-on-a-whim.”  
He shrugged and took you back in his arms. “I miss you too Ma’am-I-play-with-the-greatest.” He paused, then added: “And there is someone else who misses you too.”   
You kept him in your arms but gave him a tap in his back. As you didn’t get it, he added: “Plus, you know what we say. The best-men and bride-maids togeth-”  
You got away and couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god Jon, shut up, would you?” You huffed and glanced at your right, where Richie was. He felt your gaze and looked at you.  
Jon grabbed you beneath your arm and lead you to the others. A pot-bellied man came out of another room disguised as a cheap version of Elvis Presley, and you couldn’t help but huff. The guy cleared his throat: “So! Who’s getting married?”  
Jon and Dorothea raised their hands, smiling at each other. The Elvis got a sheet of paper out, then put on his glasses. You reflexively went at Dorothea’s side, and Richie at Jon’s.  
“Miss Hurley, do you wanna take Mister Bon Jovi here as a husband?”  
They took hands, and she smiled, saying yes.  
“Mister Bon Jovi, do you wanna take Miss Hurley here as a wife?”  
He said yes, and took no time before bending to kiss her.  
You shrugged at the rapidity of the whole thing, but seeing your friend being so happy, tears nearly peeked at your eyes. You looked at Richie; he was smiling widely, moved too. His gaze shifted to you, and you locked eyes.  
Jon had to nudge at his friend to bring him back to reality. “Rich… The rings…”  
“Oh yes…” He dug his hand in his pocket and took a little box out. He opened it and took one first, handing it to Jon, then to Dorothea. The now married took themselves in their arms and kissed once again.  
You jumped to the sudden sound: the Elvis put a huge book on the reading desk and took a pen out. “You may write something there and sign if you want. It’s for… the posterity I guess.”  
He didn’t seem to give a single shit about what he was saying, and it made you laugh.  
Jon and Dorothea wrote a little something that Richie and you signed, then the guy closed it in a loud noise and left the place in a sudden. “Well. We can say he is efficient.”  
Richie laughed to your pun, and Jon took his wife in the bridal way to the exit, as both of you followed them.  
In the parking lot, he headed to a convertible car. Once inside, he turned to both of you: “y/n, thank you for coming! I love you! See you in August for the Peace Festival!” You raised your fingers in the peace symbol to him. “Rich, see you tomorrow!” And in a matter of seconds, they were gone, Richie and you standing alone in front of the chapel. He turned to you: “So, fancy a drink?”  
-  
“And there, I punched him the face.”  
You giggled miserably to the not-really-funny story Richie was telling you. Alcohol from your tour of bars flooded through your veins as both of you pushed the swinging doors of a random hotel. You had in mind to spend money in a casino, and entered the first you saw while you got out of the last bar you went in.  
You were holding each other, not knowing who was preventing the other to fall. You hadn’t drunk that much, but the euphoria of having Richie at your side added to your state. There were only a few people in the hall, all the action being in the casino a little further.  
Both of you started to laugh again for no reason when someone yelled Richie’s name.  
You stopped and turned: a man was heading towards you. “Oh, I know him. He is one of our roadies.” You nodded and smiled at the man. Being taken back to reality made you straighten yourself and take back your composure. You greeted the man by shaking his hand as he introduced himself. “Before anything, do any of you know where the toilets are?”  
“Oh yeah, sure.” The man indicated you where they were, and you left after waving at them, it provoking a laugh from Richie.  
As you were washing your hands, you looked at you in the mirror. Not bad looking for someone who hadn’t had a complete night in weeks.  
You swiped your hands on your dress and got out of the restrooms.  
It was swing doors, making your exit noiseless. From where you came out, a huge column was between you and the guys.  
The small number of people had left, and their voices resonated in the hall, making their conversation perfectly audible for you, even if some metres separated you.  
“Man, it was just physical. Not more. Just a night thing.”


	5. August 1989

Las Vegas, May 1989

Richie’ POV

[…]  
The roadie in front of him tapped his shoulder. “Last month, I saw you with a girl, then now another… Rock star life, uh?” He grinned.  
Richie passed his hand in his hair and shook his head slightly. “Man, it was just physical. Not more. Just a night thing.”  
Some seconds passed, where he and the guy eyed each other, the man squinting, trying to see if he was kidding or not.  
“Yeah, I swear. With her, it’s different.”  
He couldn’t help but think about four years ago. You hadn’t said anything, but… What if you were feeling the same?  
He turned and eyed the restroom’s doors. He frowned; it was taking a bit long. Plus his friend’s judging look was becoming heavy. He tapped his shoulder: “See you man!” The guy got it and waved, heading to the casino.  
Richie waited two minutes, then decided to check on you. He entered and knocked at the women’s door: “y/n? Are you alright?”  
No answer.  
He cleared his throat and repeated.  
Still no answers.  
He decided to push the door and enter.  
He glanced around the room; all doors were opened, no one was there.  
His heart sank in his chest.  
-  
Moscow, 11th of August 1989 – The day before Moscow Music Peace Festival

The roadies and you got out of the taxi and stirred. None of you said anything and eyed the hotel in front of you. You heard one of your colleagues: “Wait a minute… We’re not supposed to sleep in the same hotel as the bosses?”  
By the bosses, he meant the band you were playing for. His question got quickly answered when, from the taxi that just stopped behind you, Klaus Meine from the Scorpions and the others got out.   
You were still judging the doubtful building in front of you when a roadie at your side nudged at you and invited you to look at your right. Other cars were arriving, rock stars from every popular band going out little by little. You swallowed, your heart sinking in your chest. God, you wish you wouldn’t see him.  
You said loudly for the lot of you to hear: “So, we enter or what?”  
Everyone nodded and you proceeded.  
At the reception, you all received your keys and went to your rooms.  
And what a room.  
In the bathroom the water running from the taps was too brown to be normal, in the soap dish sat a decomposing apple-core, the only towel provided was hanky-thin and crisp as an old rag, and two cigarette stubs floated lifelessly in the toilet.  
You gulped. You weren’t probably going to sleep for the next 48 hours.  
The first of the two concerts at the Lenin Stadium would start in the early evening on the 12th, and the rehearsals would start in the early afternoon.  
Too many hours to wait in this hell of a place.  
You were eyeing your bedsheets with mistrust when you heard someone knock at your door.  
You gulped. The strange atmosphere the hotel put you in made you glance around to look for something…  
You took a beer bottle that was hanging out near the bed and raised it above your head in a defensive way approaching the door. You quickly unlocked and took support on your right foot for gaining momentum if ever, the door opening on… a surprised Jon, who raised hands and eyebrows.  
You let your arm fall at your side and released your breath. He chuckled: “So, you too you feel a bit uncomfortable, uh?”  
You didn’t say anything and opened the door wider to let him enter. “Can I sit on your bed?” He squatted… “At your risks.” … and got up.  
Seeing a friend figure in this place heated your heart a bit. He spoke: “We’re going to eat at the restaurant on the ground floor. Coming with us?”  
You raised your eyes to him and looked at him. “I don’t know Jon. It’s still the early evening here, and I’m just a night thing, remember.”  
He caught you by the shoulders and pressed you against his side. Of course, you had told him what you had heard from Richie’s mouth that night. You had made him promise you not telling him though. “y/n, it’s been three months…”  
You raised your eyebrows. “And?”  
He shook his head. “Nothing.”  
You got away from him and went to unpack, scrubbing your arms – even if we were in July, the atmosphere of the place was very cold. You said: “You already know when you pass tomorrow?”  
He passed his hand through his hair. “Yep, and we’ve got a major time-set to be honest. More than an hour.”  
You turned back to him. “More than an hour? Wow Jon, that’s great!”  
He didn’t seem all joy though. “Yes, but apparently not everyone knew that. Let’s say that a certain band called Motley Crue wasn’t glad to learn they would play before us and during a shorter time.”  
You shrugged. Both of you knew their reputation.  
“I swear, plus let me tell you, those guys hate each of us, and I can’t say we love their presence very much. It will be tensed at the restaurant tonight.”  
-  
You crossed the hall and headed towards the restaurant. You could hear cutlery noises and shouts; and you wondered who had the idea to put dozens of rock stars in the same room.  
You stopped at the doorstep and swiped the place with your gaze. You could notice some people eyeing you; you tugged at your tight dress.  
“I thought you weren’t coming.” You didn’t even have to turn to see who it was. You answered Jon: “I changed my mind.”  
“Judging your outfit – which is great, I’m not saying otherwise – should I be afraid?”  
You nudged at him and didn’t wait for him to go serve yourself at the buffet. You turned again to the room and from your new point of view saw the table where Jon and his band were sat. You saw the blond tap in his friends’ hands and sit. You just moved your eyes when Richie spotted you.  
You noticed Motley Crue’s table was right next to them, and your plan took shape little by little in your mind.  
You filled your plate and headed to them. You had never met them, and only knew their names by media.  
You planted yourself between a bleach-blond man, that must be Vince Neil, and a dark-brown haired man, that you recognized as Nikki Sixx. From where you were, Richie – and Jon by the way – were right in front of you. Perfect. You cleared your throat to attract their attention, as if a woman in a tight and short dress wasn’t enough for them to notice you.  
You feigned glancing around and looking for something, squinting. In your swiping eye-movement, you noticed Richie looking at you with an unnameable expression, Jon throwing you questioning looks, David eating what was in his plate with enthusiasm, Vince scanning your whole body and Nikki – after doing what his bandmate did a bit longer – touched your arm. “Are you lost, Miss?”  
You lowered your gaze to him, smiling. “More concerned. I’m with the Scorpions, but as I’m seeing, no one kept a place for me at the table.”  
It was, in fact, completely wrong; you could see several free seats here and there between other musicians, but as the band was sitting, they couldn’t see it.  
Vince shifted his gaze from your thighs to your face: “That’s not a problem anymore. Come and sit with us!” Nikki nodded.  
The game was on.  
You cocked an eyebrow and put your hand on your hip, insisting on your movement. “And where do I sit? I don’t see any chair out there.”  
You were orienting the dialogue so much.  
Vince wiggled his eyebrows and moved his chair back, taping on his lap. “If you want, of course.”  
Your plan was working so well it hurt.  
You falsely laughed and passed your hand through your hair. You said louder enough for the other table to hear: “Sorry Vince, I always preferred brown-haired guys.”  
You put your hand on Nikki’s shoulder, this one not losing a second to make enough room between him and the table for you to sit.  
While you were sitting on his lap, you couldn’t help but lift your eyes; and directly meet Richie’s who wasn’t losing one single thing that was happening. Your eye contact lasted not more than two seconds, but had been heavy. By the corner of your eyes, you saw Jon gauging you two, and David discretely stealing something from his plate. You looked back at your prey and grinned.  
You put your elbow on Nikki’s shoulder and looked at him. He smiled at you, and started asking questions about your job out here. At some point, you nearly forgot what you were supposed to do and started enjoying your conversation with the bassist, that could have been considered as courteous and friendly if you weren’t in his lap, and his hand on your thigh. You had started talking about music, and Vince had quickly got his attention diverted elsewhere. At a moment, Nikki said something particularly funny, and you laughed loudly. A man across the table – you reckoned it was Tommy Lee – shouted: “Man, I think you’ve got a ticket!” You cocked an eyebrow. By looking at the drummer, Bon Jovi’s table was inevitably in your sight; Richie still observing the scene, his plate still full. You nearly made eye contact when Nikki said loudly: “Hey… Wanna go upstairs?” You blinked, wondering why he asked you that – and why he nearly shouted. Oh, yeah, I openly flirted with him. And he's probably drunk.  
You gulped; you hadn’t really thought about that. He then bent and whispered in your ear, tucking your hair behind it: “Just say yes, I got you.” He got back and smiled to you. It wasn’t a grin or whatever; it was a genuine smile. He winked at you, and shifted you to the side for both of you to get up.  
You smiled at the band, a bit confused by what he said, and winked at them; Nikki went next to you, and put his hand at the middle of your back. Before turning, you saw Richie getting up from his seat, and Jon tugging at his jacket.  
Both of you headed towards the exit, and went in the hall. At a moment, he stopped you and lifted his hand for you to high-five. He laughed. “Oh my god, lady, I don’t know who you are, but damn, better not play with you uh?”  
You ignored his hand and tilted your head to the side. He lowered it and shrugged: “You think I didn’t get what you were doing? You were more looking at him than me, and no shit, I thought he was going to swallow a fly by keeping his mouth opened like that.”  
You watched your feet and passed a hand through your hair, feeling your cheeks heat a bit under awkwardness. “Alright, you got me. Sorry, I ho-”  
He lifted his hand to cut you: “No, don’t. I quite enjoyed participating to piss off the boss’ pets.” You frowned, and he carried on: “Honestly, those bitches-”  
Your turn to cut him now: “Hey watch out, they are my friends.” He cocked an eyebrow. You admitted: “I acknowledge it wasn’t very clear for you to get that, but… Jon and I are friends for many years, and I just wanted to make Richie jealous.” You stopped there, and tapped his shoulder: “I don’t want to bother you longer, so thank you for playing the game, you’re free now. I’m going back to my cockroaches…” You started to walk towards the elevators when he caught you back by the arm. “Actually, you got me interested in your story.” You raised eyebrows, surprised. “You think there are bars in this country?”


	6. August 1989, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today, cause the next is going to be heavy !

Moscow, 12th of August 1989, First Day of Moscow Music Peace Festival

“Time to leave for the stadium, I want everyone in the hall in ten! Time to leave for the stadium, I want-” You slowly emerged due to the rough awakening. You could hear someone banging on the doors to wake everyone up and stirred. Gosh, this mattress was so hard… While extending your arms, you heard tingling noises and groanings.  
Your eyes shot opened and you went on your elbows.  
When you saw the scene and memories came back to your mind, you released your breath.  
Bottles of the minibar were a little everywhere on the floor. You now got why your back hurt; you literally slept on the ground. You didn’t feel like it was bad news; at least, no insects could come out of the floor tiles. A little further, Nikki was scratching his eyes and yawned.  
Last evening, your quest to find a bar to go out has quickly stopped when you got out of the hotel and saw everything was closed. You came back in your room, and drank the four mini bottles of vodka that were in the out of order fridge. At his request, you had told him the whole story about Richie, and his interest and sweetness heated your heart, coming from a stranger. You then talked about everything and nothing, eventually falling asleep on the ground.  
He sat straight and looked at you. “Well slept?” You answered him by shrugging and scrubbing your back.  
You both got up, and headed towards the door. Passing by, you eyed the bathroom and looked at Nikki: “What’s the point in taking a shower if it’s to get dirtier?”  
You both laughed and you opened the door…  
…to see Richie planted in front of you.  
He had his fist raised, ready to knock, and you looked at him, your smile fading away. Nikki stood behind you, taking support on his elbow against the door. You saw Richie gulp, his gaze shifting from the bassist to you, seeming to elaborate a whole scenario in his head.  
“Wassup man?”  
Richie looked at Nikki and stuttered, passing his hand through his hair: “Oh, uh… Nothing sorry, I thought it was someone else’s room.”  
He turned and headed towards the elevators. You gulped and felt your heart sink in your chest, then shook your head to repress those feelings. Nikki shrugged behind you: “God, you’re really under his skin uh.”  
You sighed deeply and got out, him following you.  
-  
You were reading a sheet, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, memorizing notes. The show would start in a bit less than 30 minutes, and you could hear the crowd from where you were. There has been a modification in the program: some musicians weren’t there, and you would have to be there as a backup during the whole show. You weren’t complaining though.  
“What did you do?”  
You lifted your eyes to meet Jon, hands on his hips. You laughed and put your hand on your mouth; he was wearing a whole ass Soviet soldier uniform. “You mean, you, what did you do?” You pointed at him.  
He swiped your question with his hand and removed his kepi. You looked at him expectantly; your mind was still busy on the new tracks, and you didn’t get was he was talking about.  
“Nikki Sixx? Really?”  
Oh, okay.  
You rolled your eyes and sighed. “What? I don’t have the right to shag who I want? When y’all, little men, fuck every groupie in the room it’s glorious, but when we, women, do the same, it’s not right?”  
He opened wide eyes and started mumbling nonsense. You shrugged and tapped his arm: “Jon. Nothing happened. Yes, he slept in my room, but there were two metres between us. And… it was on the floor.” He frowned slightly to your statement and nodded. “You know, I agree his bandmates look like jackasses, but he’s quite cool.”  
“Okay, but you got Richie being a complete mess out here.” You face closed and you took a step further. “Nice. I think I’m going to go to the wings.”  
“Wait y/n-”  
“No!”  
You nearly screamed, and made a passing technician turn. “No Jon. He doesn’t respect me, so why would I?” You didn’t give him the chance the answer and left, your guitar hanging at your side.  
Jon sighed deeply. Why would you respect each other? Because both of you were madly in love with each other. That’s why.


	7. August 1989, part III

[This part includes sexual content]

Moscow, 12th of August 1989

The members of Motley Crue bowed and slowly stepped back to the wings under the screams of the crowd. Passing by you, Nikki lifted his hand and you high-fived each other.  
You heard someone talking in Russian in the megaphones, and only recognized the words “Bon Jovi”. You gulped and grabbed the neck of your guitar. On the other side of the stage, you saw David reaching for his keyboards and waving at you when he noticed you. You waved back and smiled, tensed. You could see the projectors focusing somewhere in the crowd – leaving the stage in nearly complete darkness – and guessed Jon would arrive there.  
“Hey.”  
You turned. Richie was there, at your side. You didn’t say anything, just looked at him. “Can I talk to you?”  
You shrugged. He had talked low for the ambient noise, and you managed to read on his lips, but you nearly had to scream to cover the crowd: “Really? It’s the best moment you chose to come and talk to me?” In the background, you could hear David starting to play Lay Your Hands On Me’s intro. He opened his mouth, but you lifted your leg and pushed him with your foot on his ass further on the stage. He made a weird noise and threw you an offended look; you huffed, and immediately blamed yourself for smiling in his presence.  
During the next hour, you got what Nikki said the day before: they have indeed been pampered by the organizers. They chained their greatest hits, setting the stage on fire – as the crowd, if it was possible.  
Bon Jovi had just finished singing Livin’ On A Prayer and the guys were waving at the crowd as they retreated at the back.  
You scrubbed your tired fingers and unhooked your guitar from your body, giving it to a roadie. You were thirsty; your only preoccupation right now was to find something to drink, when someone called your name. You turned; Richie was walking towards you, swiping his forehead with his arm. His hair was damp and his shirt glued to his body. You pointed at his form: “Yeah, but after you took a shower-”  
“No! Please, wait.”  
He was still out of breath from playing, an urgent expression on his face. You obliged and put your back against the wall behind you, crossing your arms. Don’t forget what he said three months ago, don’t forget what he said-  
“Three months, y/n. Three months that I want to reach for you, talk to you, hear your voice… Feel you.” You gulped. No, you won’t. “But you seem out of reach more than ever, and when I manage to know where on this damn planet you are, by the time I reach for you you’re gone.” His eyebrow jumped slightly: “Plus, I feel like Jon sometimes prevents me to…” He shook his head, not wanting to get away from his point. In front of your lack of reaction, he carried on: “And finally, finally I see you again and…” He sighed and closed his eyes. “And- Fuck and you’re sat on Nikki Sixx’s lap, then he’s in your room…” He stopped and looked at you. What he just said made your heart drop in your chest, but you kept your attitude.  
“I do what I want, you’re not the boss of me.”  
You went to leave but Richie extended his arms, trapping you between his body and the wall, making you fall back against it. He took support on his hands, hovering over you and planted his eyes in yours.  
You gasped and looked at him. You knew it wasn’t his intention, but the whole situation made your belly tingle, and your emotions were taking you little by little. You cocked an eyebrow and desperately tried to keep a cool head: “Taking control, Rich?” His breath got caught in his throat and his mouth slightly opened, surprised by your statement. You scrubbed your thighs together, the action being in contrast with your tone. Fuck.  
“Not in your habit…”  
You hadn’t the time to finish when he grabbed your chin between his thumb and index and kissed you. It instantly enlightened your senses and you moaned. Yeah, fuck. You gave in, and grabbed him to pull him flush against you by hooking a finger in one of his pants’ loop.  
Both of you were drowning yourselves in each other when a staff person passed and made a noise, bringing you back. You detached your lips but stayed forehead against forehead. Your eyes were still closed. “Nothing happened Richie. We drank four sips of vodka and slept on the floor of my room.” You opened and locked eyes. You don’t know why you said that, literally destroying all your revenge plan.  
Something passed in his eyes and he grabbed you underneath your thighs, hooking your legs around his middle. You gasped from his sudden action; your neck was now at his level. He didn’t say anything and dove to suck right below your ear.  
Your hand flew in his damp hair and tugged at it; you felt the vibrations of his moans against your skin. The grip of your legs tightened around him, your pelvis going hard on his bulge, making him suck particularly hard on your neck as a reaction.  
You tapped on his shoulder; he got back and you winced to the loss of contact. You managed to stutter a “Dress… Dressing-room…”  
He grinned and unstuck you from the wall, but kept you in his arms. You shrugged and couldn’t help but laugh to the looks technical agents threw you seeing Richie carry you like a child. He took a corridor and opened the second door; you noticed clothes that matched his style and reckoned it was his dressing-room. He closed the door with his foot and lead you to the dressing table, where he sat you, staying between your legs.  
You tugged at his pants’ laces, opening it.  
You moved your legs and he made a step backwards, removing them. You discarded your shirt to the side and started opening your pants when he replaced your hands with his. You put your hands behind you to take support to lift your hips, but knocked bottles of hairspray out in the process. You let out a “oops”, throwing him a look; he didn’t pay attention to it and slid your pants and panties off of your legs, kneeling in front of you when it passed your feet.  
He looked at you and you gulped; seeing him right there between your legs could have made you come. He started kissing your legs upwards, his lips and the tip of his nose tickling you and making a trail of goose bumps raise, but you grabbed him by the chin, making him stand up and resituated him between your legs.  
He winced a bit; you grabbed him by his top and caught his lips.  
You let him go in a pop noise, then approached your mouth to his ear: “Richie, I want you now.”  
You got back and locked eyes. He let out a nearly whispered “You’re going to be the end of me” and grabbed your face to kiss you again.  
Still kissing, you hooked your legs around him to make him approach. You felt one of his hands leaving your face and slide between your bodies.  
You cupped his cheek and looked at him, breaking the kiss. You slightly nodded and moved your fingers in a caressing way. You didn’t break the eye contact while he slowly entered you, but you couldn’t help but close your eyes and let your head fall back under the sensation. You frowned a bit; he was huge, but damn, the friction of his member entering you on your G-spot felt amazing.  
Your neck was now on display and he didn’t lose time to attack it, covering your skin with sloppy kisses.  
The feeling of him inside you only made your walls clench around him, but you needed more. He hasn’t started moving yet, and you couldn’t from your position either, so you pushed on his ass with your heels.  
He detached his lips from you and grinned: “Eager?”  
You were about to answer when he gave a particularly hard thrust, which made you swallow your remark and moan loudly, rolling your eyes.  
“You were about to say?”  
You straightened your head and looked at him. You cocked an eyebrow and made your walls clench hard around him: he let out a loud “fuck” and put his forehead against yours.  
It seemed to have activated something in him; he started installing a steady pace, which made the dressing table tremble even though it was fixed to the wall.  
He moved his hips slightly in a way he now brushed your G-spot at every thrust; you had to grasp at the table to keep a step in reality.  
You moved back until your upper back was flush against the mirror. He grabbed you behind your knees and pressed his fingers in your thighs, face contorted in pleasure.  
You were seeing stars, but something lacked to make you fall over the edge; he seemed to read your mind and removed one of his hands, pushing on your right knee to open your leg and have complete access to your clit.  
By the moment he pressed his thumb on you, your breath got caught in your throat and your mouth opened.  
His thrusts became more erratic and quicker, making you get he was close. The dry brushes of him on your G-spot in accordance with the small circles of his thumb on your clit brought you dangerously close too.  
You gathered your forces to sat up straighter; your movement changed his and it elicited guttural moans from both of you.  
He dove his head in your neck, and your hand flew tangle itself in his hair, gripping a lock.  
“y/n I’m… I…”  
His ragged breath on your neck made a hot shiver run down your spine. You felt the bubble in your lower belly about to burst at any moment; you let it go in a loud cry, your arms closing on him.  
He gave some thrusts again and moaned his orgasm in your neck, his other hand flying in your hair, massaging your scalp.  
You both stayed like that a bit, just enjoying each other’s bodies. You felt him getting out slowly and winced at your sensitiveness at the same time as him.  
He removed his head from your neck and looked at you. Seconds passed, and he moved his hand from your hair to cup your cheek.   
“y/n…”  
He seemed to not find his words, so you chose them for him by closing the gap between you and kissed him. You circled his neck with your arms; he passed his around you and hugged you tight.  
You were still kissing like teenagers when the door opened.  
“Ri- y/n- I- WHAT THE FUCK? Are you-”  
Richie turned and you shifted to the side. Jon was at the doorstep, slowly getting a bit too red to be normal, stuttering words that you could guess were not really nice. You whispered in Richie’s ear: “Rich… When I said dressing-room, I didn’t know I had to precise not Jon’s.”  
-  
14th of August 1989, early morning

You were standing beside the bed, looking at him.  
You had spent the day of the second show together, visiting Moscow hand in hand. After the concert, you didn’t even go out with the others, directly coming back to the hotel together. The last 24 hours you spent with him were like a dream. You didn’t even approach the subject of the end of the trip, but time flies, and you were currently at the end of the trip.  
Moscow was just a stop in both of your tours; both of you knew it, but chose the comfort of denial.  
You tugged at the strip of your travel bag and looked at your watch. It was still early, he needed to rest. Plus, you were just avoiding sad goodbyes, uh?  
Well… Sad for you. You knew he wasn’t feeling the same, and left the room the heart heavy.


	8. August 1991

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part makes reference to the "Stranger in This Town" music video, so I advise you to watch it! :)

New Jersey, August 1991

You yawned loudly as you stirred, making Jon shrug at your side. “Tired?”  
You hummed as the hot sun made goosebumps rise on your skin. You had taken the opportunity of some free days in your schedule to come and see your old friend at his house. Both of you were on the terrace, sunglasses on your noses, sipping a drink.  
At first, you wanted to wander a bit in New York or eventually play; but your past days had been rough for both of you and you were currently like larvae under the sun. By the corner of your eye, you saw him take support on the armrests of the garden chair to get up, but he soon gave up and let himself fall back in a plastic noise. You huffed, and he said: “I wanted to show you a demo, but damn, I feel like all energy left my body.”  
You turned your face. “You started writing again?” It was kinda surprising to you, as he said he and the band wanted to make a pause. “Yeah, but only some lyrics thrown on a paper y’know.”  
You smiled. “You can’t help yourself, uh?” You looked at him and lowered your glasses, as he huffed. “You promised the others to stop a bit.” He raised his hands: “Eh, in my defence, I’m not the only one who promised to stop and wrote nonetheless.” You lifted an eyebrow.  
You spent some seconds eyeing each other and you sat back: “Hey, you started, you finish.”  
He grinned: “I thought you didn’t want to hear about him.” You gasped: “First of all, I didn’t know you would talk about him, and I never said I didn’t want to hear about him. It’s not me.” You crossed your arms. He tilted his head to the side: “Hum, let me remind you it’s you who left in Moscow and never talked to him again after…”  
The end of his sentence got lost halfway to you as he said it quieter as your eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”  
You didn’t say anything more, refusing to admit he was, in a way, right. But it was deeper than that. You swiped his remark with a hand: “Jon, you know like me how he considers me, right? I left the hotel room first due to my schedule, and he would have left without a word if he had had to leave earlier than me.” He didn’t say anything. “Since this night more than seven years ago, it is what it is.”  
“But you’d like more, don’t you?”  
Yes.  
“No. And it’s not the question.”  
You let yourself fall back in the chair. “If I felt something for him, why would I hurt me and allow myself to fall in his arms each time life gives me the opportunity?”  
You didn’t see him as your eyes were lost in the sky, but he was smiling looking at you. He extended his hand and grabbed yours that was hanging in the void. “Sorry to make those opportunities happen.” You didn’t seize what he really meant and closed your fingers on his.  
He added: “You know, it nearly happened though. He came earlier today. He’s in New York to film a videoclip for his solo album.”  
You hummed and got quiet for some seconds, before pointing at your watch. “Ooh, it’s late, I should go home now. I don’t want to bother Dorothea and you for longer…”  
He sat straight and gauged you. “y/n, don’t.”  
You got up: “…cause I have some things to prepare for tomorrow, and…”  
“y/n.”  
You finally looked at him. “What?” He raised his eyebrows. “Hey, don’t think that, who do you think I am?”  
You headed to the house.  
“y/n…”  
“If I do it, cut your hair.”  
-  
You raised your hand above your eyes to be able to see through the heavy daylight. Being there after so many years brought back memories and made a shiver run down your spine.  
You eyed right and left; vans and cars were parked a bit everywhere, but no one was on the outside of the studios. You walked a bit further and noticed life in a made-up building that looked like a bar. You headed to it and entered, the doors being opened. A little group of people were assembled, listening to a man sitting on the bar. He had papers in his hands and agitated it in the air as he was talking: “…so the plan is; we do as Richie is singing in the bar, everyone is kinda indifferent.” He snapped his fingers to a man in front of him that you didn’t see, due to people in front of you. “Mark, go grab the two guitars would you.” You noticed a movement of people letting him pass and the guy resumed: “That’s for the first part. We’ll do a parallel with scenes where Amanda will play a waitress who’s staying after the bar has closed, tidy the place up and all.” He was making huge movements with his arms and it made you shrug, waiting for the moment he’ll make the glasses hung above him fall. “At that moment, Richie is alone on the stage, and she eventually joins him, but we’ll see that while filming, right. I’ll guide you while you do it.” He threw glances at someone in front of him.  
He started talking about more technical aspects and you eyed the back of people in front of you. Was he here already?  
You extended your neck but didn’t recognize anyone. You weren’t able to see everyone though; the first row was too far and hidden by people. You could only see a black hat from where you were.  
The guy on the bar pestered looking at his watch. “Did anyone see Amanda?”  
No one answered. “This…” He breathed. “This woman can never be on time, can she?”  
No one dared to say anything, but some people puffed here and there. The guy put his hands on his hips and slowly scanned the room. From where he was, he could see everyone and stared at each face. He arrived at you, and you swore he spent some seconds more than others on yours. Nah, it was certainly cause he didn’t recognize you.  
As he had looked at everyone, he sighed and started his tour again. You huffed, but stopped when his gaze stopped on you for the second time. You gulped and a wave of guilt took you, as you had something to blame on yourself.  
“You.” He pointed at you, and you mindlessly lifted your forefinger to point at you too. His gesture made everyone turn to where he pointed in a slight “woosh” movement. “You, lady. You’re a technician?”  
“Y… Musician?”  
Your answer looked more like a question than a statement, and he frowned. He took his papers and you saw his eyes look for something. He didn’t seem to find it though, but swiped his interrogations and said: “Well, you’ve been upgraded. Come here.”  
People stepped aside to make you pass and you looked at your feet, feeling out of place. But you didn’t lie, did you?  
Everyone looked at you, frowning slightly as they didn’t get why they didn’t recognize you. At your side, you felt the intense gaze of the man in the black hat on you, but didn’t lift your eyes nonetheless.  
The man jumped on the floor and eyed you. “What’s your name?” You answered in a breath. “Hum. You heard the instructions?” You nodded. “Nice.” He turned to someone in the crowd and made a “come here” movement. You turned and your heart dropped.  
Oh.  
That’s why the man with the hat looked at you heavily.  
He put one hand on your shoulder, his other on his.  
“So, Rich, as Amanda is still not here, y/n will play in our clip.” You lifted your eyes and met his. He had his hands on his hips, and was looking at you… severely?  
“y/n, here is Richie Sambora. I let you some seconds together to introduce yourselves.” He tapped on your shoulders and left quickly.  
You extended your hand and said with humour: “Hi Mister Sambora, I’m y/n. Don’t worry, I’ve already played in a videoclip, I know what I’m doing.”   
Your smile faded away and your hand fell at your side as he didn’t move. He finally opened his mouth: “Are you serious?”  
You blinked and your features closed. “Hey, I came here to say hi, I didn’t ask for this, okay?” He looked at you, still having something that looked like anger on his face. You huffed: “What? Are you going to say I killed that Amanda chick to be here or what? I don’t even know who it is.”  
You noticed the muscles at the corner of his mouth move slightly, but he didn’t let anything pass on his face. You shrugged: “You know what, Imma leave, okay, I shouldn’t have come.” You turned, but nearly bumped into the director. “Ready?”  
-  
“Cut!”  
The music stopped, as Richie and the musicians.  
You stopped your movements too and turned to the director. You put the cloth you had been given to fake cleaning the tables on your shoulder.  
“Richie and y/n, on the pool table.”  
You looked at him, then the director and couldn’t help but huff. “What?”  
The man looked at both of you. “What what? The singer waited for everyone in the bar to leave and you’re now alone. Thought you were going to play scrabble?” He put his hands on his hips. “Does it embarrass you?” You huffed: “No, it doesn’t.” You turned and pointed at Richie. “As long as he’s consenting.”  
Richie cocked an eyebrow and said. “Yes, I am.” You grinned.  
Was the cold leaving?  
You put the cloth on a table and met him on the table. He jumped on it and helped you climb. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the director give the cameramen instructions.  
He went on his knees, and you did the same. You looked at him: he was avoiding your gaze a bit, his cheeks getting slightly pink. You looked for his eyes: “Hey, no awkwardness between us, right?” He finally looked at you. You raised an eyebrow and said with humour: “Personally it’s my first time on a pool table.”  
He laughed – and your heart jumped in your chest. “Well, it’s my first time too.”  
The music started playing, and he laid on the table. You hesitated a bit, before taking the lead and literally straddle him. He raised eyebrows in surprise and you looked at him expectantly, suddenly wondering if you hadn’t gone a bit too far, but he smirked. In the background, music started to play again.  
He raised his hands and grabbed your sides. Against your will, it elicited goose bumps on your skin and you gulped. Quick, a distraction.  
You made your head fall back as sensually as possible and said: “Woaw. Nice ceiling.” There weren’t any mics, they were just filming. He had his legs bent and give a light kick of the knee in your back. You straightened your neck and cocked an eyebrow.  
He grabbed your arm and dragged you towards him. You took support on your hands on each side of his head. He locked eyes with yours: “Why do you always end up in my life, uh?”  
“You mean on you?”  
He grinned, but gulped as you didn’t take it seriously. “I’m serious.”  
You looked at him heavily. Your faces were kinda close at this point.  
The music still played in the background, and you felt like no one was in the room with you.  
He carried on: “I feel like you’re never truly serious with me.” His grip on your arm tightened, and your heart jumped in your chest. “Do you want me to ask you something very serious?”  
His mouth opened slowly, and he nodded.  
You approached your mouth to his ear: “Richie, do you-”  
“Cut!”  
You lifted your head and both of you turned. The man clapped and gestured towards people. “Great, thank you children.” He lifted his thumbs to you. “Enough for today, see ya after tomorrow for the rest. Hmm, lady, we won’t need you for the last frames so you’re free.”  
He left as soon as he had done, and people started talking between them. You sat up straight and got up, sitting on the table in a way your legs were hanging. Richie did the same, and looked at you expectantly.  
You took a breath. Gosh, why was it so hard?  
“Rich, would you-”  
“What the hell Amanda, it’s now that you arrive?”  
Both of you turned; the director was talking to a woman at the entry. Oh, so this was Amanda. You turned back to Richie, wanting to get the focus back. “So, I was saying…” You stopped and frowned as he threw you a worried look. You turned your head again as your heard heels resonate on the floor. The woman was heading towards you, smiling at Richie. You looked at him; he was still looking at you and opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  
Amanda planted herself in front of him between his legs, not looking at you a single second. “I’m so sorry to be late, hon.” Hon?   
She caught his face and dragged him towards her to kiss him.  
-  
You had just the time to let your bag fall on the floor of your apartment when the phone rang.  
You sighed. Life didn’t leave you any time, eh.  
You crossed your living room in three steps and picked up.  
“Richie, if it’s-”  
A loud huff on the other side made you stop. “Okay, I see it hasn’t changed for that.”  
You frowned, not recognizing the voice. “Who is it?”  
The man let out an exaggerated sigh. “You disappoint me, y/n. Two years ago, you sit on my lap while we’re complete strangers but now as we know each other a bit, you act like you’ve never heard of me.”  
It gave you a smile.  
“Nikki. What can I do for you?”


	9. May 1995, part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up for the first chapter of the last part of the story!

New Jersey, May 1995

“What are we going to eat?”  
Jon huffed on the other side.  
You tucked the phone between your cheek and your shoulder, mouth slightly opened while you were putting your mascara on.  
Six years after their non-conventional wedding, Jon and his wife had decided to organize a huge reception with both families and friends.   
Well, a wedding without the church episode.  
“My mom insisted on organizing everything, it will be a surprise.”  
You took the phone back in your hand and left your bathroom for your living room. Jon was rambling to you about last-minute unexpected as you took a metallic tray that was on the counter and hit the wall with it, making the guy that was sleeping on your couch jump and Jon shout a “What’s happening, y/n?” on the phone.  
Nikki sat up, hair straight on his head, fear on his face. You shrugged and answered on the phone: “Nothing, waking up my date of the day.”  
“Your… what?”  
“Oh, I didn’t tell you? I’m coming with someone today.”  
“Hmm. May I suspect something?”  
“Absolutely not. I leave you now, see you in an hour.”  
You hang up.  
Nikki was scratching his eyes and yawned loudly.  
For four years, he had become a close friend of yours. You had helped him and his band for two concerts where their guitarist wasn’t available in 1991, and they had decided to keep you for their American tour. You couldn’t say it had been a friendship at the first sight with the rest of the band, not liking Vince and Tommy’s personalities, but you sure got on very well with the bassist. You had been there for him when he had trouble with the band, with Vince leaving and their popularity lowering.  
He was passing in town, so you jumped on the occasion to see him and asked him to accompany you.  
“Time to get ready Sleeping Beauty, we leave in an hour.”  
-  
The car stopped in front of the huge chateau. You couldn’t help but let out a “wow”. People were arriving little by little, well dressed, really giving the impression that it was a true wedding.  
You grabbed Nikki by the arm and stumbled a bit with your heels on the gravel and swore. He shrugged and said: “Let me help you.”  
You hadn’t the time to say something when he literally took you in the bridal style. He looked at you: “I guess it is of circumstance, eh?”  
You laughed and let him lift you walking to the stairs leading to the entry, climbing them with you still in his arms.  
People around you threw you questioning looks, and you smiled at them.  
You lifted your head upwards and… crossed Jon’s gaze, head tilted to the side, waiting for the guests.  
Nikki put you on your feet and both of you looked at him, like a child would look at his parents after doing something bad.  
The bassist tapped Jon’s shoulder: “What’s up man? It’s been a while.” Jon smiled to him, but seemed tensed. You gulped; you recognized it was a bit impolite to show up with someone without telling so, plus arriving with Nikki and his reputation. You had asked him to behave, but…  
Jon gave you an understood look, but stepped towards you and took you in his arms nonetheless. You glanced at the place above his shoulder: in front of you was a huge hall, leading to the main room. From where you were, you could already see a lot of round tables with long, white tablecloths.  
You broke apart and you tapped his shoulders. “I let you with the guests.” He smiled to you and you took back Nikki’s arm, heading to the main room.  
As you were walking, Nikki glanced at you. You were looking at the floor, eyebrows slightly furrowed. You lifted your gaze to him when you felt his hand on yours; “Hey, I won’t do anything. I appreciate you and I know Jon is important to you, I don’t want to hurt you.” You smiled at his nice words. “Plus, I don’t have my terror twin with me to create chaos…” You couldn’t help but laugh.  
You entered the room and waited a bit at the doorstep, both of you glancing at the room. The least you could say is that it was huge; you couldn’t count how many tables there were, all comporting at least six places. At the end of the room stood a slightly bigger one, for the couple and close family, you guessed. At the sides, a huge buffet was dressed.  
A lot of people was already there, and you could recognize some faces, such as David already emptying a tray with toasts on it.  
Nikki tugged at your arm, and approached to your ear, making you notice an old woman with a very, very weird hat that looked like a dead animal.  
You put your hand on your mouth to muffle your laugh.  
“y/n?”  
You turned, and shrugged at his expression; he seemed to be surprised you were there.  
“Hey man! It’s been a while!”  
Nikki raised his hand in the air and waited for Richie to respond; he didn’t. He scoffed and let it fall at his side.  
“Nikki Sixx? Are you Nikki Sixx from Motley Crue?”  
The three of you turned to the man who suddenly popped up next to you.  
He extended his hand to the bassist, the last one taking it, not at ease. “I’m a huge fan! Do… Do you mind?”  
Nikki didn’t say anything and slowly nodded, not knowing what he wouldn’t mind. The guy seemed to live the best day of his life, grabbed him and dragged him further. Nikki threw you scared looks before disappearing in the crowd.  
You ended up being alone in front of Richie, holding his glass of Champaign dangerously tight. He was about to say something when you heard someone tapping on a mic further in the room.  
You turned.  
Jon was standing on a chair to see everybody. Once he had attracted everyone’s attention, he started: “Hello everyone, thanks for coming today to celebrate Dorothea and I’s union.” He turned to her and smiled.  
“Six years ago, I married this beautiful woman in a lost chapel in Vegas between two shows…” He took some seconds to spot you in the room; as you were next to each other, you facilitated him the task. He raised his fist to the both of you, and you smiled at him. At your side, Richie came closer to you.  
“Remember that night?” When you left me alone?  
“Absolutely.” When you said I was only a one-night stand?  
His allusion to that event made your heart sink in your chest. Why was he talking about that?  
“…and look at us now. What a great answer to everyone who disagreed with that decision!”  
A vague of “owww” rose from the crowd.  
“Well, enough talking for now. Don’t worry, a lot of speeches are coming.” He cocked an eyebrow and some people laughed. “But now, if I may ask you all to sit at your assigned place and enjoy the buffet.”  
He jumped off the chair and some people clapped. You turned to Richie: “So, what about we go and look for our places?” He nodded.  
You were talking to him normally. Why wouldn’t you? Plus, you were probably sitting at the same table.  
You started eyeing the names. “So, what is your date’s name? It could help me to spot our table.”  
He shrugged and sipped his drink. “I’m alone.” Your heart started beating faster, but you swiped your thoughts away. “Well, I don’t have to ask yours’ name.”  
You turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed.”  
You went to another table.  
“I thought he wasn’t your type, you know-”  
“Well I guess you gotta go with someone who really wants you.”  
You locked eyes with him.  
He gulped.  
“y/n!”  
You turned; two tables away, Nikki was waving at you.  
…


	10. May 1995, part II

…  
“y/n!”  
You turned; two tables away, Nikki was waving at you.  
You joined him, Richie right behind you. You were right; both of you were at the same table. Well, even more; you were next to each other. Jon will hear about this. On your other side, you could see that a plate and cutlery had been added, tightening the spaces between people. You guessed it was Nikki, his name had been written with a pen on a little paper, as yours and other guests’ were printed.  
The three of you sat in a quite awkward silence. Next to Nikki was already sat an old woman. She turned as she heard the chair next to her being moved and eyed Nikki. She stopped her conversation with her neighbour and patted Nikki’s arm. “Hello, handsome.” She smiled, showing all her teeth. Nikki gulped, and you huffed loudly. You bent towards him, taking his plate at the same time as yours: “I don’t want to interrupt your conversation, I’ll take your food.” You winked at the woman and got up.  
You went in the queue at the buffet and extended your neck to see what was on display. You heard him coming behind you, clearing his throat. You didn’t turn. “Pay attention Rich, following me in queues is starting to become a habit.”  
You heard him huff. “Maybe I like looking at your back.”  
“Watch out, I have a date.” You were smiling, and thanked being back at him, not wanting to show him the effect he had on you.  
“But you’re not mad your date is talking to another woman?”  
He locked eyes with you as you turned completely to face him. “Hum, a bit, but you know me being mad has its perks.” He kept the eye contact but frowned slightly, not seeing what you meant. “He may get laid violently in a dressing-room by me.” You saw his Adam apple bob in his throat and a huge grin spread on your face. Two could play this game.  
“Shrimps?”  
Both of you turned to the waitress on the other side of the buffet. You smiled at her and presented her your plates.  
You then took a piece of bread and turned, going back to your table. You put Nikki’s plate in front of him, this one seeming to enjoy his conversation with the lady a bit too well. You sat, joined by Richie two minutes later.  
Nikki turned to you, a smile on his face. “Everything’s alright?”  
You nodded. “I see everything’s alright for you too.”  
The bassist put his hand on his neighbour’s chairback. “This lovely lady here was telling me the job she used to exercise and how she met Jon and the band.”  
You saw Richie nod at the corner of your eye.  
Nikki continued: “Imagine that she used to rule a vehicle company.”  
The woman nodded and added: “Absolutely, and I sold those young boys their very first tour van!” She said that looking at Richie, and he smiled at her. “I remember that.” He put his elbow on the table to face you, a vicious expression on his face. You gulped; what the hell was he preparing? “Although, know that y/n know this van very well.” He raised his eyebrows. “Remember? The van, in 1985, when-”  
You kicked in his knee with yours under the table. “Yeah, yeah I remember of course.” You faked an exaggerated smile. The lady was smiling too, happy to be remembered in an apparently happy way. You added, looking at the woman and nudging at Richie; “I’m not surprised he remembers that, he was so happy with it!” You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Me, besides…” You locked eyes with him two seconds, then turned at the woman. You winced, and the lady’s expressions fell a bit: “Oh, you had had mechanical problems?”  
You raised your shoulders and gave her a reassuring smile: “It was more about the engine’s endurance.”  
Richie’s turn to give you a kick of the knee. You couldn’t help but scoff, proud of your repartee. The lady nodded and complied: “I know, back in those days, engines had nothing to see with today’s!”  
You rose your glass to her. Nikki was looking at you, squinting as he stopped his chewing movement. You faked him a questioning look.  
“Hello everyone, enjoy the meal?”  
The hovering doubt on your table vanished as the lot of you turned to watch Jon.  
He was standing in front of the main table, a mic in his hand. Nikki nudged at you: “I think he thinks he is in a stadium.” You huffed.  
“Once again, I’d like to thank you all to be here with us today. If you’re here, it’s because we love you and appreciate you a lot.” You felt Richie’s knee move and noticed now you were still pressed again each other.  
Neither of you moved nonetheless.  
“Today we’re here to celebrate important links between people. Family…” He turned to his parents, placed on the main table, and winked at some people further.  
“Friendship too, of course. My friends have always been the best part of me.” A vague of tender noises could be heard. “Thank God, I have a lot of friends around me who I can rely on. To the general surprise…” He installed a feigned suspense, and smiled. “My stage, road, shows, artistic brothers…” Knowing where people were placed, he directly found them and started at the first table at his right. “David. From the school bench to the greatest arenas. We’ve lived so much together, I don’t know where to start. You saw this band come to life with me. I love you.”  
He put his hand on his heart. You extended your neck to see David; this one was smiling, bowing slightly.  
You gathered your hands around your mouth and shouted: “Party colleagues!”  
Everyone laughed, and Jon winked at you. David turned and raised his fists, looking at the part of the room where he judged you were, but not seeing you.  
“About another party colleague! Rich.”  
You heard him straightening a bit at your side, his knee brushing against your leg in the process. “Richie, taking you in this adventure has been the best decision we could have made. Without you, none of this would have happened.” He smiled at him. “Thank you for everything, and let’s drink to all those hours in your basement, which are, for sure, some of my best memories.”  
Richie raised his glass to Jon and some people clapped. David, from his seat, shouted a “Yoo-hoo!” and some people laughed.  
His gaze shifted to you and he raised his hand in your direction. “y/n, my friend.” You smiled. “Can we say we’re the most successful janitors in the world?” You laughed, as people around you. “All of those nights where we dreamt about music while unsticking chewing gum from couches.” He pointed at his hair. “When I had longer hair…” You added: “…and purple leather pants!” As others, he laughed and pointed an accuser finger at you. “You don’t have the right to say that!”  
You raised your hands in a sorry way. People got quiet again, and he carried on: “I remember that day in 1984 when you got called to hear that you’ve been taken to tour with…” He looked right and left, as he was installing some suspense. “…ladies and gents, the woman out there has been called by the Scorpions’ manager to tour with them as we were on the floor of her badly isolated apartment under the roof of an 80-year-old deaf woman, listening to Bruce Springsteen on her old record player.” You smiled to the memory, and Richie put his arm a bit closer to yours on the table – but you didn’t notice it.  
“I was so proud of you.” You bit your lip; if he carried on like that, you were going to cry. Jon opened his free arm. “I can’t hide that when you left, I missed you a lot. We spent too much time together, and overnight we see each other not even four times a year. Yeah, I missed you a lot.”  
You put your hand on your heart, and Jon sent you a kiss with his hand. At your side, Richie moved his little finger against your hand. Under the emotion and thinking he was giving you support during his friend’s speech, you literally grabbed his hand and held it tight.  
“But you’ve been here at every important moment of my life since the recording of our first album till the last, passing by my wedding…” You raised your finger: “Don’t forget the filming of your first clip.”  
He took an offended look and people laughed again. Richie laughed at your side, but differently; the event reminding him different events.  
He put the mic back in front of his mouth. “All of that to say…” He smiled at you. “Thank you for being there after a lot of hairspray, purple leather pants, a wedding on a whim at 3 in the morning in Vegas, in a shitty hotel in Moscow, and everywhere else.”  
People applauded and you sent him a kiss with your hand. You were full of emotions.  
You mechanically turned to Richie and seemed to notice only now that you were holding his hand. You let it go and muttered a “sorry”. He cleared his throat and said sorry too, putting his hand on his leg.  
Jon carried on: “And of course, this day is about love too.”  
…


	11. May 1995, part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading my story! Your comments were very well appreciated, love you for that.  
> If you like my style, don't hesitate to throw a look at my other fics ;)

…  
[This part includes sexual content]

“And of course, this day is about love too.”  
People cheered. Jon turned to his wife completely, guests only able to see his back now. His voice resonated through the room: “I have so much to tell you I don’t know where to start. It’s like all my feelings want to come out at the same time, so nothing comes out at all. I’m always speechless in front of you.”  
You grabbed your glass and sipped, but nearly spat out everything when you felt brushing fingers on your thigh. It was shy at first, but seen you didn’t react badly, Richie carried on and made his tips touch your skin.  
“Every time I look at you, my heart drop in my chest, and I feel like I never see you enough.”  
The tips of his fingers were wandering on your skin, drawing soothing circles. It wasn’t following a particular path, only caressing your skin. Nearly affectively. It made goosebumps rise on your skin, and heat your body in a way you didn’t want to assume.  
“I just want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life.”  
He fanned his fingers out and slowly covered more and more of your skin, making more and more waves of shivers going up your spine. Not seeing Jon’s face made his speech be so personal to each of you.  
“I love you so much.”  
Richie’s hand stopped moving and clawed slightly on your thigh, the tip of his fingers arriving on the inside of your thigh, making you shiver.  
You looked around; Nikki was looking at Jon, surprisingly trapped in his speech. From the corner of your eye, you watched Richie. His elbow was on the table, chin on his palm, fingers on his mouth, looking at his bandmate.  
It was too much for you; your brain was racing. Thankfully, it allowed you to get an idea pretty quick: your glass was still in your hand, and you tilted it towards you in a quick movement of your wrist.  
You let out a “oops!” and moved your chair backwards. Richie’s hand left you as he turned to you; such as Nikki. You quickly glanced around: no one else seemed to have noticed, still listening to Jon.  
The bassist gasped, whispering to you: “Shit, are you okay?”  
You lifted your head to him: “Yeah, well, better than my dress. I’m going to dry it at the toilet, at least a bit.”  
He nodded to you and you got up, not glancing at Richie.  
The sound of your hurried steps made your heels clap on the tiles, making people get out of Jon’s speech and look at you. You threw them sorry looks and pushed the doors to the hall.  
The restrooms were right in front of you, on the other side of the corridor.  
There were three doors: one leading to the women’s, the second the men’s and the third to the toilet for disabled people.  
You opened the last one and eyed the larger room, looking for the hand dryer.  
You noticed it next to the sink and went to it, gripping at the skirt to put the cloth below the blow.  
You hadn’t closed the door and heard it slam. You turned; Richie was standing in front of the door. You quickly glanced at him then looked back at the hand dryer that had just stopped. You lifted your hand to push on the button when he spat out: “Why did you leave without saying anything in Moscow?”  
His words stopped you and now you turned your face to him. “Why did you leave in 1983?” That’s when everything started, no? He shrugged. “That’s what you wanted, no?” You raised your eyebrows. “Excuse me? What I wanted? It’s not me who has been introduced as a professional of one-night stands to someone, okay?”  
He put his hands on hips and made some steps towards you. “Being taken seriously, that’s all I wanted y/n!” You gasped. You couldn’t believe your ears. “Taken seriously? You say that as you don’t hide yourself to say that I’m only a “night-thing” to everyone you meet!”  
He opened his mouth, and you made some steps towards him too. “You think I didn’t hear you, uh? After Jon’s wedding, in Vegas.” You raised your hands and imitated quotation marks with your fingers: “It’s physical, it’s just a night thing.” Your cheeks were red from remembering this quite insulting moment for you.  
He opened wide eyes and said in a breath: “It… It was…”  
You shrugged and crossed your arms on your chest. You got him. He resumed nonetheless: “I wasn’t talking about you.” You cocked an eyebrow, what he said being hard to believe – but his expressions being quite perturbing. “How… How would you have thought I said that with what I had told you in Jersey?”  
You tilted your head to the side. Jersey? You hadn’t met in Jersey since… 1985. He gulped and nodded in a surrendering way. “You don’t remember it, don’t you. Well, you hadn’t said anything after, so I should have got it…” He shrugged sadly. You made a step and planted yourself in front of him. He was looking at his feet, but him being taller than you, you could put yourself below his gaze.  
“Richie. What am I not remembering?”  
He met your gaze. The expression on his face made your heart sink in your chest. “In Jersey, after we recorded the clip… The van…” He closed his eyes, as what he wanted to say was hard to formulate. “You know, after…”  
His breath got caught in his throat and he bit his lip. You put your hands on his arms and tightened your grip slightly. A lot was going on in your mind right now as you studied his features. Why did it have to be that hard? More than ten years that this hide and seek game lasted. Your heart was beating fast as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes too. You repeated, more for yourself than anything: “Why did you leave in the early morning in 1983?”  
All your resentment came out in that question and the insides of your eyes started to tickle. He opened his eyes and looked at you. That’s when everything started after all. “Why couldn’t you just stay in my bed and wake up with me in your arms? Go to the studio together, film those fucking clips together, be there for Jon together, going to Moscow together, or-”  
“I love you.”  
You shot your eyes open and stopped, mouth agape.  
“That’s what I said in Jersey.”  
It was so big you didn’t even proceed to what he said. Your only reaction was to grab his face and lock eyes with him, saying: “And you think that if I had heard that, I would have forgotten?” So many things were going on in you right now. “You think that if I had heard that, I would have left in Vegas?” You felt the insides of your eyes tickle. “You think that if I had heard that, I would have left in Moscow?” His eyes were getting wetter.  
You paused and took a breath. “You think that if I had heard that, I wouldn’t have answered the same?”  
He opened wide eyes and you closed yours, afraid of his reaction. You felt him put his hands on your sides. He let out in a quiet voice, as he didn’t dare to say something: “If I had known… You would have been asked to play in my clip. Officially.”  
You couldn’t help but scoff as you opened your eyes. “Oh shut up-”  
He slowly approached and kissed you. Just like that, simply.  
You closed your arms around his neck and responded, melting into him. Finding him back.  
You didn't want anything else than feeling him. Slowly, you made him step back till he was against the wall. He let out a little noise as his back touched the marble, but it got muffled by the kiss. His hand went on your thigh, as some minutes ago, the other pressing at your back.  
You broke apart and looked at him. You put your hands on his shoulders, and pushed. He got it and grinned, sliding against the wall, dragging you with him.  
He fell on his ass, you on his lap. His hand on your thigh ascended, uncovering your skin little by little. You bent, kissing his cheeks, then his neck. You sucked right below his ear, and his hand clawed at your upper thigh, when…  
He blinked: “No panties?”  
You didn’t answer and smiled in his neck. You gave a roll of your hips and he hissed. It’s to tease him that you did that, but the friction of the fabric of his pants on your bare slit made you moan unwillingly. The hot air of your breath in his neck made him shiver. You rolled your hips once again and felt him getting hard.  
He moved the cloth of your dress to free your front and thumbed at your core. He cocked an eyebrow as he felt your wetness. You hummed: “What? You touch me under the table and all…”  
“Oh, I didn’t know you liked doing it in public.”  
You rolled your eyes: “Oh shut up.” You grabbed his collar. “But… If you could do something about it.” You gave him doe eyes.  
He gulped and nodded. “If it’s asked so kindly…”  
He lost no time unbuckling his pants and making the button pop. Your turn to grin as you saw he was already rock hard. “What? I touch you under the table and all…”  
You pulled out your tongue and he took your head to kiss you. With a hand, you took him out of his brief and gave him a pump. He moaned in your mouth and you shifted towards him. He grabbed your hips and lifted you enough for you to slide on him.  
You stayed forehead against forehead, eyes closed, as you took him and got used to his size. He passed his hand in your hair and put his face in your neck. He alternated between kissing, sucking and biting here and there as you started rocking on him.  
His member deliciously dragged against your front wall and touched all your nerve endings, making your eyes roll back. You didn’t know if you were giving the rhythm or him by guiding you but you forced and made greater movements.  
Your clit was rubbing on his lower belly as he was sat, and heat was spreading in your body, both of your moans resounding in the empty room. He rubbed you against him and pushed you a bit to watch where your bodies met. He closed his eyes; “y/n, not to be…”  
His words got caught on his throat and his head fell back against the wall.  
You got what he meant and gave a sudden move of the hips. He clawed at your hips, holding them for dear life. You said in a moan, sounding more disparately than wanted: “Rich, I’ve got you. Let go.”  
He opened his eyes and looked at you. “Not before you.”  
He removed one hand of your leg and put his thumb on your clit, losing no time rubbing at it.  
You put your hands flush on the wall at each side of his head. “Don’t stop.” He grinned at your desperate tone but you didn’t care; your orgasm was approaching. He bit his lip and drew tighter circles with his thumb; you put your forehead against his and let yourself go. In your pleasure, you felt his grip at your hip tighten and his hips rising slightly from the floor as he came too. Still eyes closed, you closed the gap between bot of you and kissed him.  
When you broke the kiss, you didn’t wait a minute when you said: “I have something to ask you.” He lifted his gaze to you, still out of breath. “You know, what I wanted to ask you four years ago, when I visited you in Jersey during the recording of your clip.” He nodded. “Richie, would you go out with me?”  
He smiled and cupped your face. You felt stupid for that, but you blushed as you felt exposed, you and your feelings. “And you only want to ask me out for four years?” He had said that with a grin, and you gently pocked his shoulder. He tilted his head to the side. “Of course, y/n, I accept to go out with you.”  
You closed the gap and kissed him again, hand tangled in his hair.  
In the corridor, heels clapping on the tiles brought you back. You cleared your throat: “Well, we should…”  
“Yeah…”  
You couldn’t say for how much time you had left the reception, but it was maybe time to come back. “I mean, I don’t want to miss the cake.”  
You got up and winced as he got out of you. You tugged on your dress as Richie buckled up his pants, but stumbled a bit when you got on your legs. He grinned and you threw him a look as you quickly glanced at yourself in the mirror. Well, it was a style.  
He opened the door and made the “after-you” gesture. You shrugged and got out. Crossing the corridor, he took your hand and kissed the back of it. You could help but smile, your cheek getting red. You felt like a teenager and her first boyfriend. He then kissed your temple, and your neck.  
“Oh my god Rich, it tickles…”  
“And it’s only the beginning my love.”  
You raised eyebrows playfully to the nickname as both of you crossed the opened – weren’t they closed before? – doors. You were still huffing together as you lifted your head to the room… dived in complete silence.  
You gulped and felt Richie’s grip tightening on your hand.  
On the other side of the room, Jon was sat on the table and got up as he saw you, as he was waiting for that. He took back the mic.  
You quickly eyed the room: some people had a grin plastered on their face, others – mostly elders – were throwing both of you shocked looks. Your gaze was brought back towards your friend as the amplified sound of him clearing his throat resonated in the still quiet room. He started walking towards you, wandering between tables.  
“Ladies and Gentlemen, my best friends, Richie Sambora and y/n y/l/n!”  
Everyone started cheering and clapping. Further, you saw David get up and scream your names. You looked at him and mentally presented him your middle finger.  
“Today, those beautiful people, that, as I said, I am very lucky to have in my life, thought us a lesson.” He planted himself in front of you, and you bit your lip as he looked at you. “The marble has an incredible resounding power.”  
Everyone started laughing, and Richie pinched the bridge of his nose. You rolled your eyes and laughed. You had everything to grumble on Jon, but you didn’t have the heart to.  
In the background, people were already shifting their focus on something else, bringing back a talking noise.  
Jon looked at your hands, still tied together. He smiled, but rose his finger in an “attention” way and looked at Richie. “Hey. Careful.”  
You laughed and took them in your arms, holding them tight.  
Some tables away, Nikki was looking at the whole of you. He bent towards the old lady: “Ma’am, I think my mission here is once again accomplished.” She looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “At the next wedding, I’ll have to present to you my terror twin though.”

Fin


End file.
